


Burning Desire

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Belt Violence, Biting, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Breathplay, Cameras, Choking, Come as Lube, Consensual Abuse, Consensual Infidelity, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, Finger Sucking, Gangbang, Hair-pulling, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Het and Slash, Manipulative Relationship, Marking, Mentions of past abuse, Mild Blood, Mind Games, Multi, Orgy, Overstimulation, Ownership, Photo Shoots, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, Situational Humiliation, Spanking, Spit Kink, Tie as Bondage, Twincest, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, choicest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: “'Lift her leg a little higher,' V tells Zen, but it's Jumin's hand on the opposite leg that you feel first. His point of contact is slightly rougher, more demanding, but just as soft to the touch. He gently opens you up to the dark of V's camera, a voyeuristic object of your affections.” V watches as the boys have some fun with you. Jealousy and possessiveness take hold and punishment ensues—based on V's bad ending 2.





	Burning Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hideyourghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideyourghost/gifts).



It begins at night when the sky is a spill of ink across an eternal canvas, stippled with a galaxy of stars and resident to the perpetually unknown. The streetlights are humming with electricity as if they're buzzing with life and the pavement below is slick with the evening's rain. The air is oppressive, thick with the kind of moisture that clings to your skin, and it's just humid enough to make the night uncomfortable. But you don't have to worry about the sticky heat or the restless damp because you're not outside tonight.

When you tip your head back it's not the blanket of night that you see but the glistening bright of makeshift stars dangling from strings. They can't quite compare to the celestial ceiling considering how prevalent electricity is here, but there's an offering of sensuality to them that's just as magical. The walls are the color of sangria and roses, and if you stare at them long enough they bleed different hues of candy-colored interest. Candlelight dances around the room, illuminating the dim space enough to see but not enough to reveal the secrets written across your skin—the mystery that V has branded your complexion.

“Are you sure about this?” It's Jumin's voice, spoken low and lanced with curious caution. His tone catches like leather and spills like honey, the sound of it enough to spread gooseflesh out across your skin. You don't have to look at him to know that he's folding the cuffs on the sleeves of his crisp button-down or that the question is directed at V, but you turn your head and address him anyway because it seems like the right thing to do.

V's face is hidden behind the dark eye of his camera and you know by the subtle shift of his finger that he's just taken a picture of you. His mouth curves into a tilted smile that's exhibitory of his awareness—he knows that you're wholly cognizant of his intentions and he's not ashamed to use that knowledge to his advantage.

V lowers the camera a fraction and turns to face Jumin directly, firelight catching on the shadows eclipsing the seafoam of his gaze. He smooths moisture into the tiny cracks that line his lips and nods, and you think that you can see the hard lines of Jumin's face soften marginally. You feel satisfaction swamp your veins and heat pool in the space between your thighs, and the pleasure is only heightened when you lower your glossy-eyed stare to the fabric drawing tight over V's growing erection.

You can feel fingers in your hair and when you tilt your head back you lock eyes with Saeyoung. He smiles a crooked little smirk that sends a bolt of lightning right into your heart, the electromagnetism spreading like fire in your bloodstream. He lifts a section of your hair to his mouth and drags the soft strands over his lips, and the innocent gesture breeds more eroticism than it has any right to.

You close your eyes and submit to a shiver that threads through your veins. You feel the gentle caress of a hand stroke the bare of your leg, the touch almost loving in its tenderness. The owner's hand is warm against your skin and as soft as the delicate brush of a rose petal against your lips. You crack open your eyes just as Zen ducks his head and begins to plant a trail of sensuous kisses from your ankle to the curve of your calf. The fall of his hair swings forward and brushes across your knee, the titillating touch making you squirm.

“Lift her leg a little higher,” V tells Zen, but it's Jumin's hand on the opposite leg that you feel first. His point of contact is slightly rougher, more demanding, but just as soft to the touch. He gently opens you up to the dark of V's camera, a voyeuristic object of your affections.

Zen rights himself and straightens the delicate curvature of his spine as he draws your leg in close against his chest. He smiles down at you, a gesture of warm seduction, then he presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle as he begins to massage the bottom of your foot. The camera goes off and the flash is so bright you can feel it light you up.

“That's a good girl,” Jumin tells you, the sound of his voice taking the shape of inviting praise.

You feel a hand close around your wrist, more biting than affectionate, but the demanding pressure quickly turns tame when the soft scratch of a calloused thumb traces the lines of your palm. “When do we get to tie her up?” There's insistence in the question, impatience and pressing need that speaks for the desire to corrupt the innocence left in you.

“Forever the impatient one,” Saeyoung says, teasing his twin.

“I don't like to drag my feet. I'd rather get them wet and get to the climax,” is Saeran's reply, syrupy sweet and thick like molasses.

“So to speak,” Saeyoung responds with an airy laugh. “I'll get the rope.”

“No need,” Jumin says, and you try to catch the air in your lungs because you know that once you cross this line there's no going back. Jumin works his tie loose from around his neck and no sooner than he's handing it over to Saeran, is the ghost of your heart standing next to you.

“Good thing Daddy-Han comes prepared,” Saeyoung needles, his fingernails scraping over the line of your scalp.

“By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail,” Jumin says, serious and authoritative.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zen comments. “We _know_. We don't need your lessons, _Daddy_.” You can hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice but when Jumin turns to him and takes his chin in between his thumb and forefinger, you can see his knees visibly weaken.

“Watch what you say, _boy_ , or I might be fucking you next,” Jumin warns, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I hate it when mommy and daddy fight,” Saeyoung says. He grabs your wrists and holds them together, albeit needless, as Saeran begins to knot the expensive silk of Jumin's tie around your complex joints.

“I'm not above killing you, Saeyoung,” Zen says, his fingers going tighter against your skin.

“I'm always up for a good fight but it might do you good to remember who has more blood on their hands,” Saeyoung tells him, the usual mirth of his tone dissolving into something sharper and swathed in danger.

Saeran yanks the fabric around your wrists a final time, and you know that your hands are bound to go numb by the time they're finished with you but there's no point in addressing the issue because Saeran runs short on mercy. “I love when you talk dirty,” he says to his twin, and you can almost _hear_ the arousal on his breath.

“Yeah? Then you're really gonna love when I shove my cock down her throat,” Saeyoung replies, making your heart skip six beats at once. You don't know who to focus on and for the first time in your life, you wish you could see everywhere at once. You finally decide to spare a glance behind you, tipping your head back into an angle of strain.

Saeran has his hands knotted in Saeyoung's hair, pulling tight and desperate as the red-head grinds his hips forward and into Saeran's own hard enough to draw ragged breaths out of the dark of the paler boy's throat. Their lips are pressed together to the point of bruising and every shift of movement screams passion. You part your lips and whimper a sound of need that has a breath of laughter passing over the arch of your foot.

“You have a taste for the depraved, don't you, Princess?” Zen asks, sliding the flat of his hand down the length of your leg to rest against the inside of your thigh. “I can feel how hot you are from here.”

“I think it's time for us to see just how far that depravity goes,” V announces, lowering his camera for the first time since you found yourself dressed in black and set atop satin sheets boasting resplendent thread-count. “Jumin, if you wouldn't mind,” V says as he hands over the priceless camera in his hand.

“You're not asking him to take pictures, are you?” Zen asks, sounding worried.

V chuckles softly as he closes the scant space between you. “No, I know better than to trust Jumin with my art.” Jumin emits a noise of offense and you feel your mouth curve into a responding smile when V grins down at you. He strokes the contour of your cheek with the back of his hand before tucking a section of hair behind your ear. “Are you sure you're up to this? Once we start, things might get a bit … _rough_.” V traces the shape of your mouth with his thumb and when you nod your assent, parting your lips for breath, he slips the digit past the soft tissue and presses the salt of his skin in against your tongue. “Do you remember your safe word?”

You close your lips around the warm length of V's thumb and suck the bittersweet tang from his skin. You lift your gaze to meet his burning stare and peer through the long lines of your lashes. You nod once again, slow and sure, and the smile that lights up V's face makes twice as many shadows. “That's my girl,” he says, withdrawing his thumb from your mouth.

“Fuck safe words,” Saeran mutters, his breathing labored and his voice thick with heat. “What's the point of testing her if you're going to give her an escape route?”

V turns to face Saeran directly and you can almost feel the strings of tension that live between them lash out against your skin. “Because this is my game and I have no intention of leaving her with irreparable damage.”

“Really? That's interesting because I distinctly remember you not giving a shit when you were damaging me.” Saeran's tone shifts into raw malice and his fingernails bite into your skin like fangs on a poisonous snake. “What if I wanted to break her? I think you owe me a little leniency.”

“I'll consider letting you toy with her another time but tonight is about ____ testing me.” V's eyes flicker between something sympathetic and something sinister. “I've said it a thousand times and I'll say it again, I never meant to hurt you, Saeran.”

“That's too bad. He'd probably have been into it if you'd done it right,” Saeyoung says, half-teasing, half-serious.

Zen snorts amusement despite the thick weight of tension in the air and Jumin shoots him a look of expressive disappointment. Zen lifts his shoulders in the barest of shrugs and says: “What? We all know V gets off on being cut to the quick and Saeran obviously has a thing for pain. Don't be so uptight, Trust Fund Kid. You'll spoil the mood.”

“I think the mood has been allayed without my interference,” Jumin responds, dragging his mouth into a tight line.

“I can fix that,” Saeyoung chimes in, and you can see hesitance and skepticism pass over the faces of each male in turn, but then the sound of something being struck meets your ears and you watch Zen visibly wince in response.

“You can't just punch your own brother!” Zen exclaims, surprise rounding his tone and lifting it into the lilt of unsettled alarm.

“I just did,” Saeyoung says as casually as though he's merely reciting tonight's weather.

You turn just in time to witness the streak of red contrasting with the pale of Saeran's chin before he drags the back of his hand across his split bottom lip. There's blood on his skin when he reaches out and fists his hands in Saeyoung's shirt to pull him off-balance and flush against his body. “Don't think that I won't get you back for that,” Saeran growls, slick crimson staining the white of his teeth.

“I'm counting on it,” Saeyoung answers, sliding a hand down to the belt hugging the bony jut of Saeran's hips. He tugs his brother closer somehow and flicks his tongue out and over the well of blood forming along the lower line of his mouth. “Now shut the fuck up so we can get on with this. My cock is ready to explode.”

V seems in as much agreement so he leans forward and forcefully tears the straps of your dress away from the sleek fabric. You can hear your breathing hitch at the point of contact and V offers you a consolation smile. “Sorry, but it's all I could do with your hands already bound. Though, I think it's going to add a nice touch to your photo shoot.”

“I most definitely agree,” Jumin concurs, passing the camera back to V so he can begin unfastening the buttons on his shirt methodically. Zen watches him briefly, then as if there's an unspoken challenge between them, he tugs his sweater over his head to reveal the sculpted lines of his pale chest.

“If you don't mind my saying,” Jumin begins, finally coming to the last button holding his shirt in place, “your skin would look beautiful after a good lashing.”

You expect Zen to rebuke the statement but to your surprise, his cheeks turn pink as if dusted with blush and he keeps his lips pressed to secrecy. However, it seems to awaken the metaphorical beast within him because he's lowering himself over you to tug the topmost part of your dress down past the swell of your breasts.

It's a simple gesture in theory but in practice, it's the catalyst that feeds the hungry wolves that live and breathe in each spirit present in the dimly lit room. What was once an elementary task—telling each male apart from the other—is no longer a simple undertaking.

Their hands feel everywhere at once, which you suppose it an accurate statement considering that there are four sets of them exploring your body with frenetic enthusiasm. Nails glance your skin and warm palms caress your limbs. A pair of hands clutch at your hips hard enough to press finger-shaped bruises into your skin. You aim a guess at Saeran but when you blink the room into focus and work your concentration through the haze ghosting your thoughts, you discover that the forceful grip belongs to Zen.

Jumin works the smooth edge of your dress up your thighs and you shudder at the glancing friction of his fingertips against your skin. A hand closes around your throat and two fingers slip over the damp edges of your teeth to needlessly pry open your mouth. You tilt your head back and in the direction of where Saeyoung is standing. His fingers slip wetly from your lips, but the former intrusion is immediately replaced by the hard jut of his cock, and Saeran immediately applies more pressure to the base of your throat in a silent warning that you don't need.

You look to V who is once again, the background to his camera. You relax the muscles in your jaw and part your lips in an act of obedience; still and all, you wait to see if V offers his assent but before he manages to whisper a husky _test me_ , Saeyoung is dragging the swollen damp of his cockhead over your lips and thrusting forward in a motion that challenges the back of your throat. The action calls for your attention and you can't do more than focus on the slide of his heavy member against your tongue.

You close your eyes and hear the slow shuffle of feet, and almost as soon as you register the sound as movement, V is telling you to open your eyes and look at the camera. You respond dutifully at the sound of his voice and heed his command without a stitch of resistance.

Saeran's hand leaves your throat and you inhale as much oxygen as Saeyoung's leaking hardness will allow. It's a small blessing but it's nonextant almost instantly because Saeran is tightening his hand to a fist in your hair to control your movements. It's enough of a distraction without the hands easing apart your knees, and when a knuckle drags friction over the thin fabric of your panties it takes every fiber of your being to maintain control.

Saliva leaks past the corners of your mouth and drips down your chin, and you want so badly to wipe it away but Saeran seems so fixed on choking you on his twin's cock that you couldn't manage the simple task even if you had access to your hands. You close your eyes and focus on breathing through your nose as the shade of your throat turns raw.

A shock of tepid air cools the slick of your arousal when your panties join the negotiated state of your dress. A hiss of breath and a moan of approval reach your ears like the gentle sway of an ocean's tide and you can feel the wet of it spill down over your inner thighs. Saeyoung says something that you don't quite catch, but Saeran's already collected whatever it was in the palm of his hand because he's dragging your head back so roughly that you barely manage to avoid catching your teeth on Saeyoung's cock when it leaves your mouth with an audible pop.

“Make sure that I can still see her,” V says, his voice dissolving with heat to melt like the stars behind your eyes.

“God forbid we interfere with his _art_ ,” Saeran says, his voice low enough that it doesn't reach past the boundaries of where you and Saeyoung can hear it. Saeyoung huffs a breath of laughter through his nose as he switches places with his twin. “All in the name of creativity,” Saeran deadpans, then he's fitting the thick of his cock into the shadow of your wet aperture.

“I trust you know how to pleasure a woman,” Jumin says, presumably to Zen, whose fingers are pressing in against your thighs.

“I'm not a virgin, CEO-in...” Zen trails off but the reason for his sudden silence is made glaringly obvious when Jumin shoves his head down and between the apex of your thighs.

“Then use your pretty mouth for something good, won't you?” Jumin says, the undercurrent of his tone teeming with satisfaction.

Zen hums something in an attempt at a response but it gets lost to the glistening wet of your arousal, and the vibration of it only sends a jolt of pleasure through your clit and up your spine. Saeran slams his hips forward and you choke reflexively, grateful for the second of reprieve he offers when he removes himself from your mouth so you can gasp yourself back into breathing.

At that moment, Jumin reaches out and wraps the length of Zen's ponytail around his wrist and hand, and yanks his head back. “You always have to have the last word, don't you, Pretty Boy?” Jumin asks, his timbre dropping an octave lower than its natural inflection. “Even now, at a time like this.” Jumin tightens his hold on Zen's hair and the silver-haired boy lets his mouth fall slack on a sigh of pleasure. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in manners sometime.”

“Speaking of manners,” Saeran says, and before you have time to shift your attention back to where he's standing, he cracks his hand across your cheek. “You could use a few yourself.”

“And you could use a little patience,” Saeyoung tells him, but the statement is more playful than it is serious, cloaked in a veil of unhealthy approval.

You blink several times as if the action can shake the shock from your body. The sting from Saeran's hand is thrumming through your cheek and it's not that it doesn't hurt, necessarily, only that the decisive drag of Zen's expert tongue is taking precedence over the radiant ache. You don't recall exactly when Jumin gave Zen permission to continue with his explicit ministrations but the torrent of pleasure that slips through your bloodstream is intoxicating. However, it writes the realization that you can't keep up with everything that's going on across the forefront of your mind—which, in turn, makes you notice that V's trousers are open and undone, a mess of wrinkled material left to circumscribe the protruding length of his cock.

Saeran reaches out and roughly grabs the angle of your jaw, forcing your attention back to his own arousal. You part your lips but before you're fully capable of accommodating the girth of his shaft, he shoves himself into your mouth and catches his skin against the edges of your teeth. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself for another blow but Saeran spits forth a violent _fuck_ that softens into a sound that vibrates like a sated purr.

“You're so _vicious_ ,” Saeyoung taunts, his breath ghosting the bareness of your breasts. You tremble and even though you're mentally prepared for what's coming, you can't ready yourself for your body's physical response. Saeyoung closes his lips around a turgid peak while pinching the opposite nub between his fingers in a gesture that's equal parts pain and pleasure. Your back arches and your thighs begin to shake, and it's all you can do not to scream out around the solid weight threatening to overtake your throat.

You furl your toes and for a reason that you can't make quite clear, you start to perceive the quiet sounds of V's camera. It's not the tripping of the shutter or the _click_ that the vintage cameras you used when you were younger made, but more of mechanical sound, like the camera's parts are submitting to the press of V's finger. Then there's the low hum of the lens zooming in and the sound of V changing the control ring functions, and you can't help but flush at the query of what _exactly_ V is pulling into such detailed focus.

You feel like you're tangled up and torn into pieces, your body scattered like dust and lost to the ether. You can feel desire in your bones and the pleasure that overwhelms your senses feels powerful enough to end your youth. So focusing on a single task is challenging to say the least, but somehow you manage, or better, you make do with what you're capable of. Fortunately, Saeran doesn't care much about the mess you're making and he's more than willing to accept a bit of pain.

Zen hums something that passes for a growl and the sound of it reverberates against your sex. You feel your knees fall open in automatic response and the gesture is all Jumin needs to step forward and slip two fingers into your aching cunt without pause. Zen whines something like protest but he quickly manages to work around Jumin's intrusion, his tongue occasionally catching on the dark-haired man's skin. Your mouth falls slack and you struggle for a breath that doesn't quite make it into your lungs because Saeyoung's crushing a kiss against your lips and licking into your mouth like time is counting down against the magic numbers written across your tongue.

“You're kind of in my way,” Saeran says, tugging at Saeyoung's hair roughly. “I wasn't finished, and unless you want me to start fucking the back of your skull, I suggest you move.”

Saeyoung catches the bottom line of your mouth between his teeth and bites down as he draws away, a strand of saliva breaking betwixt you. “You're just twisted enough for that threat to ring true,” Saeyoung says to his brother. “But I think you need to take a bit of a break.”

Saeran arches an eyebrow and before he can respond, you hiccup a hitch of high-strung pleasure when Jumin twists his fingers, the slide of his long digits brushing against a bundle of sensitive tissue that makes heat inundate your body. For a moment, you sink into the waters of fantastic imagery: your blood is turning over to poison and your body is placed upon a funeral pyre. You're breathless and dripping with sweat, a goddess ready to die for the thousandth time. There's a collar around your neck made of gold and the weight of it would drag you down if not for the chain keeping you upright. There's glass beneath your feet and a serpent between your legs and the blood that rains down from the lantern sky tastes like ambrosia.

“Why's that?” Saeran asks, his voice enough to shatter the illusion that's painted itself across your eyes. Zen moans then, and you let your attention flicker over to the two men between your legs. Jumin is still holding Zen's hair in his fist and when he lifts his gaze to meet the heat-glazed of your own, his mouth curves into a slanted smile. He jerks his hand back and Zen's head snaps up obediently, his lips shining with slick and his chin just as wet. Jumin withdraws his fingers from your cunt with agonizing slowness and presents them to Zen, who carries out his compliance by closing his mouth around the salacious offering.

You writhe in an attempt to alleviate the aching throb that pulses between your legs, a pulse that begs for more. Saeyoung mentions something about coming to Saeran but you're missing bits of the conversation by the time you steal a glimpse in their direction. Saeyoung has his hand around Saeran's shaft, his grip firm and unforgiving. The flesh beneath his fingers is an angry red, and the head of his cock is swollen and flushing purple. You suspect that it must be uncomfortable, in some measure at least, but Saeran is melting against his brother like cotton candy as he whispers dirty promises against the shell of his ear.

The camera keeps going, and you wonder how many pictures V is going to have by the time this is over and done. Your body convulses with a shiver and you're unexpectedly overcome with the desperate need to be fucked—and it's not as simple as being filled up and stretched open, but you want to be used and abused and pushed to every feasible limit your body has.

You want to be converted, to experience that in which you've only fantasized about, and if that means being hurt then you're more than willing to fight through the pain because, in the end, you'll treasure your bruises and wear your scars like a trophy of their love.

V watches you through the lens of the camera and it's almost as though he's holding the key to the thoughts in your head. He issues an order and you can't fully hear what he says but you can tell that he's being assertive, and it's strange to witness a man as commanding as Jumin submit to someone like V—but he does because he's letting go of his grip on Zen's hair to make his way over to the space between your legs.

“I should apologize. It seems that I've forgotten my manners. Though, it's easy to make errs when there's a brat in need of punishment so close-at-hand.” Jumin smiles down at you as he slides the leather of his belt through the loops holding it in place. “Still and all, there's no excuse worthy of justification when a good girl such as yourself has been waiting so patiently for her reward.”

You feel passion prickle your skin and a kaleidoscope of butterflies comes to life in the walls of your stomach. You smile softly despite the heat in your cheeks and sweep your tongue across your lips. “Please,” is all you say, for it's the only word that underscores the need that's spilling over your body like an overflowing sink.

“Don't hold back,” V tells him, and Jumin turns his head to track the sound of his voice. “She's not afraid of being hurt.”

Jumin's mouth pulls into a tight frown but his fingers continue working his trousers down the sharp line of his narrow hips. “Accepting pain is different than finding pleasure in it,” Jumin says, then he's turning back to look down at you. “Do you enjoy pain?”

“Jesus Christ, if you're not going to fuck her, I will,” Saeran snaps, irritability riding on the edge of his tongue like a rusty razor-blade. “We already went over this before we got here. V said that we can do whatever we want as long as we don't seriously injure her. She's his property, obviously she's okay with it.”

Saeyoung snickers from somewhere behind you and if you had to guess, he's probably shaking his head too. “My precious, sadistic brother.”

“ _Well_ , it doesn't have to be so fucking complicated,” Saeran adds. “If you want something and it's being offered to you, why wouldn't you take it?”

“This is why he still needs to be in therapy,” Zen mutters, his words slightly muffled by the elastic band between his lips. He pulls his hair back into a fresh ponytail and looks over at where Jumin's stroking over himself idly. “Though, he kinda has a point. There are four of us, maybe five” –his gaze flickers over to V– “who want to have sex with her. You're holding up the line.”

“ _Fuck_ her,” Saeran corrects casually.

“I have a different way of doing things,” Jumin says simply, ignoring Saeran's interruption. “I prefer to practice refined social behavior over functioning like a wild animal. Maybe it has something to do with our difference in maturity levels and social standing.” Jumin's lips twitch and you can tell that he's biting back a smile as he takes your hips in his hands and catches the head of his cock at your entrance. You feel laughter scratching at the cages of your chest as you realize that Jumin's only baiting Zen into a trap, but it's chased away as soon as Jumin rocks his hips forward an inch and slips the head of his cock past the resistance of your opening.

“About time. It's like pulling teeth with him,” Saeran scoffs, then he opens his mouth to frame his lips on something else but Saeyoung claps a hand down on his shoulder and squeezes.

“Don't even think about it,” Saeyoung says, his features trapped between expressions of amusement and concern.

If it were any other time you might find enjoyment in their banter but with Jumin's cock sheathed inside of you, buried deep and stretching hot, you can't focus on anything other than the brilliant satisfaction humming through your veins.

You don't realize that you've closed your eyes until they crack open and the blurry outline of Jumin's form draws itself into focus. You blink several times, breath trapped on your lips and sweat sticking to your skin like syrup. Your focal point shatters when Zen comes into view behind Jumin's shoulder, widening the point of convergence and splitting it into two. You fight to keep your gaze centered on the scene playing out in front of you but every cant of Jumin's hips breaks like lightning behind your eyes. However, you manage to recenter your attention enough to watch Zen slide the pressed fabric of Jumin's shirt down his shoulders and off of his arms. He balls up the material and tosses it to the side, a petty gesture that makes you smile inside. Then he's pressing himself up against the bare heat of Jumin's back and dragging his manicured nails down the toned pale of Jumin's chest.

Jumin hisses a breath of pleasure and pushes himself a bit deeper, his cockhead catching on places inside of you that you've never even touched on. Zen's half-lidded gaze commits to the center of your exposed heat and he's practically salivating by the time Jumin works himself into a steady rhythm that's somehow equal parts calculative and urgent.

“Fuck, hurry up,” Zen whispers, neediness like velvet on his tongue. He bends his head forward and sets his teeth against the juncture of Jumin's neck and shoulder. Jumin's eyes flutter shut and the bracing grip on the handholds of your hips turns so tight that you can feel his nails dig into the soft of your skin. His body goes tense and his stomach tightens as his breathing switches to panting. Zen lifts his gaze from under the weight of his lashes and looks right _into_ you before he sets his teeth on a bite that makes Jumin's eyes snap open and his body surrender to its call for sexual gratification.

“Pull out slowly,” V orders, stepping forward an inch or so in preparation for whatever shot it is he has in mind.

Jumin loosens his grip on your hips and smooths his hands over the tender flesh affectionately by way of unspoken apology. He slides his palms down to the tops of your thighs and steadies himself as he shakily works himself back and free of your tight heat.

Zen's hands are pressing hard against Jumin's chest as if the tight embrace is all he has to keep himself vertical. His eyes are set on the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite your lip to distract yourself from the fact that Zen is watching Jumin's come leak down your skin in viscous ribbons.

“Go on, _Princess_ ,” Saeran huffs, his eyes darkening with the shadows of his impatience. “I don't imagine that you're going to last long with _daddy's_ come slicking your cock.” You tip your head back and meet Saeran's eyes before he rolls them and ends on a glare.

“Shut up,” Zen counters, but the underlying challenge he aims for is as weak as the volume of his voice. He steps out from behind Jumin and they exchange places. Zen's cock is as seemingly perfect as the rest of his body, and you're so desperate to have something inside of you again that you twist your hips in a vainglorious gesture capable of speaking for your wanton desire.

“I'm here, babe,” Zen says, quiet and distracted. He reaches out and drags the tip of his index finger through the slick beading past your entrance and down your skin. He slides the wet digit up your slit and gently pinches your clit, making you cry out in a way that begs for relief. Zen's eyes travel up your body and settle on your face, the passion behind his pupils turning over to a hunger that you crave.

“You're really going to accept the fact that she wants to do this with all of us?” Saeran asks abruptly, the question undoubtedly aimed at V. “Doesn't it bother you?” Saeran lowers a hand to your bound wrists and strokes his fingers over the veins that branch out beneath your skin. “I don't think I could ever trust a whore.”

“She's my creation, my work of art, and I'm in charge,” V replies, and the bittersweet sting of Saeran's insult quickly ebbs into something palatable. “It's not about the sex. It's about the limits of our relationship, the boundaries in which we cross.”

Zen curls his fingers around the base of his cock and braces a hand at the line of your waist as he pushes himself into your drenched sex with ease. The slide offers no friction and pleasure writes itself across Zen's face before he tosses his head back and exhales a sigh of pleasure.

“Do you _have_ limits?” Saeran asks, incredulous and slightly amused. “'Cause I'm not really seeing any here.”

“You're really chatty today,” Saeyoung says. “Maybe I didn't punch you hard enough.”

“I'm just _curious_ ,” Saeran drawls. “What else do I have to do while I stand here and wait my turn like I'm in a fucking coffee line? I can't jerk myself off, can I? That was one of the _rules_.”

“No, the rule was that you can't come until it's your turn.” Saeyoung wraps his hand around Saeran's hard shaft and digs his thumb in against its beading slit. “Since you're so determined to start an argument, let's see if you can hold your own since you've had some time to cool down.”

“Try me,” Saeran says, lifting his shoulders in the barest of shrugs. “But you better make it hurt.”

“Baby, if I didn't know that by now I wouldn't be here today,” Saeyoung replies, and he squeezes the head of Saeran's cock until an amalgamation of pain and pleasure squeezes past his lips.

“This is turning out to be more entertaining than I thought it would be,” Jumin says, and for a second, you think he's referring to the twins but he's looking at Zen. “What's your reason for holding yourself back? Fuck her like you mean it.” He lifts a hand and drags it down the length of Zen's spine, and you have no way of knowing the degree of pressure behind the touch but it seems to facilitate the need for something inside of the silver-haired model above you. He thrusts forward in violent need and digs his thumbs in against your ribcage.

It's not long before Zen's hair is sticking to the sweat-damp of his forehead and the pink dust of his cheeks. His breathing is strained and his body is shaking so badly you wonder if he's still holding a part of himself back. The fiery red of his burning stare pierces through you and he furrows his brows together before something in his gaze bursts into flame. “I'm sorry,” he manages, and you don't know what he's apologizing for until he's bowing his head and closing his teeth on a fleshy part of your breast.

You issue forth a high-pitched whimper as pain flares through your nerves, but it's quickly overridden with pleasure when Zen laps at the wound and catches his tongue against a swollen nipple. His nails carve little half-moons into your skin and his hips are coming forward so hard that you're dizzy from the force of it. Your heart begins to beat in patterns of his ministrations and just when you're ready to dive off the abstract cliffs of your orgasm, Zen abandons your hypersensitive passage in favor of decorating your complexion with slippery ropes that spill across your chest and stomach.

Your body is quivering and every inch of your skin feels like it's been manipulated by an unseen force. Your limbs ache and your arms are straining from the tension of being bound over your head. You feel like there's fire in your veins and ice in your lungs, and you think that if you don't get to come soon you're going to fall apart.

“That was incredible,” Zen issues, and balances himself on his palms to lean forward and lick a trail through the come scoring abstract shapes across your stomach. “Thanks, babe.”

You nod in lieu of a response because there's not enough space in your throat to formulate your thoughts into sound. Zen propels himself forward and plants a chaste kiss on your lips, and as soon as he pushes himself into standing, Saeran closes a tight hand on his arm to draw him aside and out of his way.

“I hope you're not too spent.” Saeran drags a featherlight touch down the inside of your thigh that slowly turns to the sharp dig of a nail cutting into your skin. “I'm not going to be as nice as the other boys.”

“You mean to say that you're not going to make love to her?” Saeyoung goads, running his hands up your arms to peer down into your face. “I'm going to need you to roll over, ____. I think you've been on your back long enough.”

“I agree,” V affirms. “I'd like to take some pictures of her up on her knees.”

Saeran shoots V a sideways glance and arches an eyebrow. “What did you think we were going to do with her? Hang her from the ceiling?”

Saeyoung smiles and bites back a laugh as he helps guide you up and into a sitting position, then he takes you by the elbow and bodily gestures for you to drop down onto your forearms. It's a bit awkward at first but Saeyoung keeps you from toppling over while Saeran lifts your hips high in the air.

“Fuck, this can't be all Jumin's doing. His come should be buried high up in this pussy by now. You're really enjoying this, aren't you?” Saeran thrusts two fingers into your exposed cunt without a modicum of warning and you shriek in surprise, the shock of his touch sending you forward and into Saeyoung's abdomen. “Do you like being the center of attention, ____? Do you like being our dirty little whore?” Saeran withdraws his fingers and immediately brings the flat of his hand down against your backside. The crack echoes around the room and you barely manage to stifle the howl that barks behind your teeth. “Come here, V. I think you should get a better look at her. See how wet she's gotten from being fucked by other men.”

To your surprise, V heeds Saeran's suggestion and walks around you in a half-circle to appraise the most intimate parts of your body. It's three shades humiliating and six shades arousing, the brazenness of the action cutting right down to the darkest corners of your desires. You can hear a low hum of approval vibrate in the low of V's chest and the sheer idea of his composure cracking has a straining whimper stretching up the back of your throat.

“You really are quite beautiful, ____,” V compliments, his camera the trigger beneath his finger. This time you hear the sound of the picture taking and it's like a bullet straight to your gut. You sway your hips and peer up through the lines of your lashes to look at Saeyoung pleadingly.

The corner of Saeyoung's mouth lifts into an arrogant smirk and he slips his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it pressing in against the edges of your teeth firmly. “How badly do you want us to fuck you?” he asks you, the timbre of his voice drawing low like the dark of a curtain.

“More than anything,” you confess, the words like sand between your teeth. “ _Please_.”

“Who are we to refuse a girl who asks so nicely?” Saeran taunts, and once again, he's fitting his fingers into your body. He strokes the smooth tissue of your inner walls and twists his fingers to push himself deeper. “I bet if we stretched you a bit more I could fit my entire fist inside of you.” Saeran removes his fingers and pinches your clit roughly before draping himself over your back to nip at the curve of a shoulder blade. “You might play at being polite but you're not a good girl, ____. Good girls don't swallow bad boys so they can see you from the inside. You're dirty and corrupt and nothing more than a receptacle for the remains of our pleasure. You're a whore and a filthy little cockslut.”

Saeran fits a hand between your bodies and hastily lines himself up to your entrance. When he enters your body venom spills between you and you almost lose yourself to the momentum of his first thrust. He plunges deep into your silken channel, his hips slamming hard enough against your backside to drown out the sounds playing in the backdrop of the room. He fucks into you like you're two opposite ends of a magnet and for as much as it hurts, it imbues you with a thrill of sudden life and energy, capable of lighting up every tactile nerve ending in your body.

“Hey, Pretty Boy, give me Jumin's belt,” Saeran commands, gesturing to the strip of leather still lying abandoned over the arm of a neighboring chair.

Zen passes the belt over to Saeran as Saeyoung forces you up onto your elbows. “Open up your hands a bit,” he tells you, and when you separate your extremities as much as your bonds will allow, he nods his approval. “Yeah, like that.”

You can feel Saeran shift behind your back, and Saeyoung waits until the smooth cut of leather circles your throat before he steps forward and rests the weight of his cock on your open palms. Saeran threads the belt through its attached buckle and tightens it into a makeshift collar and leash combination that compromises your breathing. Saeyoung slides a hand through your hair and rocks his hips forward, the slide of his cock dragging resistance over your skin.

It's an entirely different experience, to be fucked by twins because Saeyoung seems capable of calculating Saeran's every move, and every cant of Saeran's hips seems to coincide with Saeyoung's own undulation. You feel like you're being hung out to dry in the middle of a summer storm, a fire in the trees with no one to put out the flame, so they put it in you. You're shivering and shaking and every inch of your body becomes a victim of their genocide. You fall apart at the seams, strung up by a noose, and when Saeran tightens the belt around your neck, the electric heat behind your eyes explodes in a flash of light that burns you down to the ground. You're taken by the stars and carried away with the madness that runs through your blood like puppet strings.

“Fuck,” Saeran hisses, and he closes his hands on your hips for some semblance of stability. “She's gotten so fucking tight.”

“She's also turning bright red,” Saeyoung states as tears begin to stream down your cheeks. “I think you're really choking her.”

Saeran immediately loosens his white-knuckled grip, and you don't realize how close you were to losing consciousness until you cough yourself back into breathing. The oxygen that enters your mouth is too much at once and every shallow breath you take burns through your lungs. Nevertheless, it's not enough to stall Saeran's violent gyration or the exercise of Saeyoung's perversion, and what's more is that while you're gasping life back into your body, you're just as aroused as you were before Saeran tried to steal it from you.

Saeyoung comes first, but you're prepared for it because you see his stomach draw tight and his cock twitch before he spills ribbons of come over your palms to drip between your fingers. He catches a breath between his teeth, then lets the weight of it hiss past his lips like a whispered prayer, his eyes drawing shut as the final evidence of his capitulation drips onto your restrained hands.

Saeran follows almost immediately, a litany of filthy words on his lips as he slams himself home a final time and buries his seed deep within your exploited sex. His hands are so firm on your hips that they're shaking, and he almost has to pry his fingers away from your skin before they start to relax.

Saeyoung sweeps his finger through the mess in your hands and lifts the soiled finger to your bruising lips. You open your mouth and try to relax the ache that threads through your jaw but Saeyoung doesn't reach for your tongue, instead, he smears the salt-slick into the soft tissue of your lips.

You're staring into Saeyoung's eyes when Saeran removes the belt from around your neck, and you're slipping beneath the tide of his gaze just as the light-haired twin cracks the folded leather across the swell of your backside. You wail like the wind and topple forward into the waiting support of Saeyoung's arms, shaking like a leaf and wet like rain. Your legs are growing weak from the effort of holding yourself up, from the strain of chasing the pleasures running through your body. And you're just about ready to surrender to the vulnerability scratching at the surface of your skin when Saeran removes the tie binding your wrists and Saeyoung pulls you into sitting.

“I wasn't trying to kill you, for what it's worth,” Saeran says, the acknowledgment playing almost like an apology on his lips.

“He gets a bit overzealous at times,” Saeyoung adds, and he pulls Saeran into a playful headlock as if they weren't just shamelessly sharing your body only moments ago.

“Fuck off, Saeyoung,” Saeran says, laughing and shoving at his twin's chest.

“It looks like your time has finally come,” Jumin turns to look at V, “what are you going to do?”

V finally lowers his camera and walks it over to a table across the room. “I'm going to love her, just like I always have,” is V's initial response. He shrugs out of his jacket, and you think it's strange that he's kept it on the whole time considering the way his trousers are falling open. “It's been a great pleasure, having each of you here tonight. Thank you for being welcome participants in my new art project.”

“Are you kicking us out?” Saeyoung asks, his arm draped lazily around Saeran's shoulders.

“Of course not. I have no issues with you staying if that's what you want.” V works open the front of his shirt with long, deft fingers. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and wait for V to offer you some kind of instruction. Even considering everything you've already done here tonight, something about waiting for V to acknowledge you is like waiting on the sun to break through the sky after three days of night. You rove your eyes down his chest and when you reach the hint of an elastic band nestled against his skin, you feel a dying spark flicker back to life.

V sets the coffee-colored shirt aside and the light from above catches on the faint scars that crisscross his chest. A knife-edged pang of jealousy stabs through you, knowing exactly where those scars came from but you find immediate satisfaction in the fact that you're V's inspiration now. Next, V shucks his trousers, and much to your dismay, he takes the time to fold them into a neat square before adding them to the rest of his belongings.

The air in the room grows thin and you realize that you're all waiting for the same thing, for V to overtake you and put an end to the night that will forever be a diamond in the many treasures that make up your memory.

You absentmindedly rub the lines that mark your wrists and close your eyes while you lie in wait. You can smell the flowers that accent the room but the heady scent of sweat and skin and sex is stronger. You're enveloped by the aroma, stripped down to tatters and dressed in the redolence of their release. You think you can hear wolves at the door and angels scratching at the ceiling like static on a T.V. screen, you can _feel_ the violence of the night, and you're burning so bright that you melt beneath V's hand when he touches your bare shoulder. You crack open your eyes and pull his face into view, a weak smile taking over the shape of your lips.

“Did you enjoy the taste of freedom?” V asks you, his voice silky-sweet but riding on the edge of something unpredictable. “Are you satisfied?” He slides his hand down over the curve of your shoulder, and you tremble through a shiver that begins at the base of your spine and shoots down to the tips of your toes. He walks his fingers over the delicate rise of your collarbone and the gesture is that of a spider seeking prime property.

You stare into the indecipherable cryptogram that's etched across V's gaze, and you think that he's as much of an enigma as you are his prey. You swallow thickly and feel heat catch on the lump that's formed in the line of your throat. Something that shimmers in the waters of his stare makes you feel vulnerable and you lose yourself beneath the undertow that pulls you in. You nod in short bobs and whisper an affirmative that cracks itself into sound.

In recent times, it's become harder and harder to lay the groundwork for V's actions. He's slightly unstable and marginally unraveled, just a little bit mad. Steadily, imperceptibly, he's been pulling out all of the threads that hold him together. His love for you has grown from a tiny particle to vast wilderness, a plain that took root in ways you didn't think possible. It's obsession in every definition of the word, but that's what got you here, pushed you to this point. It's darkness and manipulation and ruthless desire. It's not soft and sweet, it's bone-shattering and back-breaking, and where love spills there's a trail of blood to lead you back home.

So it's unsurprising when V hits you with an open hand hard enough to snap your head to the side. You raise your own hand to the ache that spreads out across your cheek reflexively but V is already tilting your head back, his fingers pressing against the curve of your chin. You look at him directly, tears lining the fall of your lashes, but they're not for the pain or what should feel like betrayal, they exist for desperation, for the need to be dominated by this man in the worst way.

“Open your mouth,” V commands, his thumb pressing at the bottom line of your mouth. You do as you're told and part your lips, and V tips your head back until you're staring up at the ceiling. He leans over you, his breath hot against your lips when he feeds a trail of saliva into your waiting aperture. Your eyes shutter and finally close, and the shiver that passed through you earlier returns in spades, branching through you like electricity that shocks your heart. V draws back and you slowly lower your head as you swallow him down, the taste of him like liquor and candy on your tongue.

“If only I could touch you under your skin, make you a part of me.” V strokes his fingers along the line of your inflamed jaw, tender and sure to bruise. There's a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye and with the brief smack of skin-against-skin, you have a right mind to believe that Saeyoung is clamping his hand over Saeran's mouth. If V notices the slight disturbance he doesn't show it, but then again, he wouldn't.

“I allowed you to test me for both of us, but I never expected you to let things go so far.” V sounds disappointed but the emotion doesn't spread to the dark of his gaze or the dangerous slant of his lips. “If this were a game I'd have to say that you've lost, but losing a game like this means you win no matter the outcome, doesn't it?”

“I only win if I get you in the end,” you answer cleverly. You reach out and glance your fingers over the smooth column of V's throat. “I need you to set things right. I need you to love me like the sun.”

“Then you're sure to get burned,” is V's answer, thick and muddy like the soil after a rainstorm. “I hope you're not afraid.”

“I'm won't be afraid as long as you promise to keep me.” You spread your legs to accommodate the width of V's body, moving in tandem grace that allows you to feel the rigid length of his cock against your sullied entrance. “I need you to make me yours again. I want to feel you move inside of me.”

V takes your hand in his own and presses your fingers to his lips, kissing each one in turn. “You will always be mine, ____. I will share you if you're willing to accept the punishment but I will _never_ give you away. You belong to me.” V shakes the fall of his hair out of his eyes and penetrates your gaze, cutting right down to the fragmented glow of your soul. “You will forever be my greatest work of art, my masterpiece.”

You smile up at him and brush your fingertips across the fullness of his lips. You don't hear the noise of derision from behind Saeyoung's hand or the shuffle of Jumin's feet; things you might have noticed before have faded into the background because all that exists at this very moment is the mint-haired man above you.

“Put me inside of you,” V says, and he's falling back against the surface beneath you to pull you forward and into his lap. You brace yourself against his sculpted shoulders and press your knees in against the warmth of his thighs. You lift your hips and reach between your legs, your fingers catching slick before grasping the solid weight of his erection. V hisses a sound of pleasure and you whimper before you even fit him inside of you, your legs shaking and your heart hammering in your chest. You lower yourself down until you're fully seated in V's lap and he's buried to the hilt inside of your hypersensitive channel, delicate and overused.

“Jihyun,” you whisper, curling your fingers against the shift of his shoulders when he reaches forward to grasp your waist.

“Move your hips,” he tells you, assertive and exacting. “I want to feel every inch of you around me.”

You emit a whine and roll your hips, the new angle of penetration touching on a bundle of raw nerve endings. You shudder and shake, and you don't know how you have any energy left in you to move because you've never been so thoroughly fucked before. But there's something about finally being with V that imbues you with a rush of renewed stamina. It's like a drug, intoxicating your bloodstream and filling you with sensations you've never before experienced. You're hanging on a white-knuckled grip and when you grind down to take V deeper, he thrusts up and shatters your control. You give him love and he gives it right back, and it's raw and impassioned, and the compromise is so commanding that it makes tears spill down your cheeks.

“Put your hands behind your back,” V demands, the slick on his mouth catching reflective in the string-lights above. You shakily fall into an act of obedience but V jerks his hips forward roughly and throws you into precarious balance. It's a miracle that you catch yourself but somehow you stay straight-up as you clutch your forearms and hold the appendages against your spine.

V's mouth slants into a serpentine smile as he peels his fingers away from the sweat sticking to your skin. He presses a hand against the small of your back and pulls you in closer, the result making you cry out in bliss. “You should be ashamed of yourself, ____. You're enjoying this far too much.” V slams his hips upward and the force of it shakes through you, and the only thing keeping you from collapsing is trusting that V will continue to prop you up. “How many times have you come tonight?”

You shake your head and inhale a shallow breath. “I'm … I'm not sure,” you stammer. “I can't tell anymore.”

V exhales a harsh sound and fucks into you like an animal off its leash. “My beautiful concubine,” V rasps, his breathing going ragged. “I should lock you away, keep you for myself until I've taught you how to count properly. Or is that you're so selfish you don't care to keep track as long as you're being pleasured?”

You open your mouth to respond but V begins fucking into you at a pace you can't contend with, and you can't focus on anything more than the carnal need swallowing you up. V chuckles, low and seductive, despite the energy he's expending to make a mess of you. He drags his hand lower, the space he's newly abandoned going cool for the sweat he's left on your skin. He brings his hand down against your ass as he grinds himself deep, his nails digging into your skin when he squeezes the pliable flesh in his hand firmly.

“Tell me that you belong to me,” V demands throatily. He lifts his hips and tips you back, his cock still seated deeply within you when you hit solidity. Your hands are trapped beneath your weight and you're forced to arch your back to find comfort in the position, but it doesn't really matter because V is rapidly reaching the precipice of his arousal.

You whimper and moan, and it's a small mercy that you can make any sound at all for all of the heat trapped in your throat. “I belong to you,” you gasp between breaths.

V moves his fingers to your hip and the strength of his handclasp is breathtaking, but it's forgotten as soon as he moves his free hand to the swollen thrum of your clit. His fingers press in against the sensitive organ and the urgency of his touch makes you break into pieces right beneath him.

You cry out and scream his name as the walls crumble around you, but he's silencing you only a second later, his mouth a crushing force against your lips. You can't breathe, can't see, can't _think_ , and you've just begun to wonder if you've lost consciousness, but then you feel V shake himself through an all-powerful orgasm that fills you to completion.

V kisses you open-mouthed and messily as if he can steal the breath from your lungs and claim it for himself, and you'd let him if it were possible. You'd let him do just about anything, and the truth of that should scare you, but whatever fear you do feel is gladly received.

“Here.” It's Saeran's voice, and when you manage to angle your head in his direction, you notice the camera in his hand. “I figured you'd want one last shot since this one's all on you.”

V smiles, fatigue a gentle kiss on his lips. “I suppose it would feel like a missing piece to tonight's puzzle if I didn't take a few more pictures.” It takes a moment for V to right himself and you appreciate the sudden freedom because your legs are burning with an uncomfortable twinge that threatens a series of inevitable spasms.

However, you feel that you would be doing V a disservice if you didn't ask for permission first, so you work the moisture on your tongue into a swallow and attempt obedience. “Can I please move?” you ask, your voice raw and scratchy against the battered walls of your throat.

“Only if you're willing to assist me,” is V's reply, stretching thick with a number of implications that leave phantom prints across your skin like delicious scars. You tremble and nod your head in acquiesce his terms, curious as to what he has in mind.

“Actually, I'm going to need all of you to assist me, if you'd be so kind,” V says to the room.

Your heart skips a beat and for the first time tonight, you wonder if you're truly capable of lasting until morning—and as the occupants of the room being to close in, you settle for riding the rails of _only time will tell_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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